


Inner Circle and Their Inquisitor

by Zinc (zincviking)



Series: A Trevelyanian Inquisition [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dorian being a brat, Maxwell shutting him down, Smoking, good naturedly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:43:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5881513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zincviking/pseuds/Zinc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments between the members of Trevelyan's Inner Circle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written on my phone, so I apologize for any mistakes. <3 ❤️

It had been raining nonstop as they scoured the Storm Coast, seeking Red Templars and their disgusting red lyrium sources. It's been several weeks since the party had stone as a roof instead of flimsy canvas, and Dorian was absolutely over this excursion. At first it wasn't so bad. He and Vivienne had concocted a lovely warmth spell that enveloped the party, keeping them cozy and dry. However, the Templars seemed to sense this weave of magical energy, and Maxwell had pulled out his Inquisitor voice after the fourth ambush. “No magic outside of defense.” Dorian was appalled to say the least, and he made it known.

His complaints started off by falling on deaf ears, but eventually Bull started to growl every time he opened his mouth. The growls set Vivienne on edge, who still held her grace even if her glares were a little more piercing than usual. That aura of _hatred_ worked in Dorian’s favor, reaching the usually untouchable Inquisitor. Dorian suspected that another day and a half of his obnoxious complaining would break Bull, the domino effect will strike the Inquisitor and they'd be allowed the warmth spell again. Dorian had years to master this technique and he was sure it was going to work. 

“If you don't shut the fuck up, Vint, I'm going to turn you inside out.” Bull snapped the next morning when Dorian complained about their lack of good breakfast food. Maxwell closed his eyes tightly as Vivienne drew in her breath, bracing her patience. Dorian felt the dynamic switch and lunged for it. 

“It's cold, we’re wet, and miserable, is it so hard to ask for one small luxury?” Dorian snapped, crossing his arms. He saw the Inquisitor ponder for a second, and truly he was the Inquisitor in this moment. Maxwell was confidently tucked away for moments like these, which was good. Dorian couldn't fight Max, but he could fight the Inquisitor. Eagerly, it so happened. 

“My dear, I wasn't aware you knew what luxury was, coming from Tevinter.” The enchanter said gracefully, face not betraying her emotions. It wasn't the worst she could do but he could use it. The Inquisitor looked pained, knowing the ammo she had supplied him. The glint in Vivienne's eyes said she knew as well. Whether she deigned to acknowledge it was not important to Dorian. 

“Excuse you?” He squawked, glaring at her. “I'll have you know-” 

“We’re moving out, now.” The Inquisitor interrupted. Well fine, Dorian could continue this ploy in a moment. They packed up, Dorian huffing as he did, earning growls from Bull. About forty five minutes later, when the mood had settled and hackles were lowered, Dorian attacked again. 

“This is vile. We’ve already been this way. Why are we backtracking.” 

“We're being thorough.” The inquisitor replied stiffly, taking an apple out of his pack as they stopped under some rocks for some reprieve from the constant downpour. 

Dorian waited a few moments as the Inquisitor scouted ahead, using his hunting knife to cut slices of the under ripe apple away to eat, his nose wrinkling at the sour taste. He returned just in time for Dorian to think of a new complaint. “I have needs, you're aware. I'd consider Bull, but since we haven't bathed since we left Skyhold…” Bull groaned and Vivienne made a scoff of disapproval. The Inquisitor glowered at him, and Dorian knew that if he pushed too far, Maxwell would be angry as well. But he sensed it, the breaking point, to let them have the damn spell. They started out again, and Dorian huffed and whined and made noises of disapproval, pushing the parties tensions to breaking point. Now, he just needed to put the final nail in the coffin… 

He huffed dramatically before stopping, leaning on his staff. “You know what I don't understand?” he started, fully intending to barrel on without a reply, especially since he assumed none of them would deign to reply. 

“Subtly?” 

Max was smirking over his shoulder. Dorian's mouth dropped open slightly, and from his right he heard Vivienne snicker, honest to the Maker snicker, at his expense. Bull was a bit late to the joke, having slipped in the mind set of “ignore” but when he caught it, his laughter echoed off the rocky cliffs sides. It startled a flock of birds into flight. 

“I, of course not, that I understand-” he scrambled to regain his progress. He had been _so_ close! 

“Do you?” Maxwell grinned, winking at him as he sliced off another piece of the apple, offering it on the knife to Vivienne. She considered it for a moment before taking it up with graceful fingers, biting into it with a smirk at Dorian. he greatly underestimated his foes, it seems. He forgot the most important thing about Maxwell being Inquisitor: the Inquisitor was only Maxwell, no matter his masks. And Maxwell? He knew how to lead. And how to deal with Dorian. 

Dorian had to concede, with a pout, 

“To answer your earlier question, Dorian, we’re backtracking to go home.” 

“Oh, thank the Maker.” 

“You're still a brat.” Dorian chuckled at Max's words. That he was. And he was sure Max would punish him so properly when they reached Skyhold.


	2. Sprained Ankles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written on my phone, so excuse typos and mistakes ❤️❤️❤️

“Mother fucking blighted shit eater halla fucking bees up your arse-”

“ _Sera_ ,” Max interrupted her colorful expletives as he crouched next to her. Behind him, she could see Bull make sure all the little baddies were dead. Well good on him, fuckers. She turned her attention to Max as he carefully pushed her legging up. 

“Still not interested in dangly bits, Quiz,” she snorted, going to kick his arm way with her good leg. Like she was ever going to listen to Bull again. Get on his shoulders, what a load of nugpellets. Here she was, two seconds later with a broken leg- 

“It doesn't seem broken, just sprained,” Max said as if he could read her mind. If he was one of those messed up things like Cole, or a Mage with the magic like that prissy old elf she'd be angry and scared. But he was Max. He dumped water on Josie and helped her kick a shitehead in his shitehead. “You can't walk back to camp though.” 

“What!? You can't leave me here, in the elfiest left places, if you leave me here you-” 

“Leave you? Nah,” he said, handing her his bow. She always liked his Marchers accent. If that was a nobles accent, well shite, maybe people wouldn't look at her weird. She took his bow, and he adjusted his quiver so it was on his hip. 

“What you on about, Maxxie?” she asked before a squealing yelp escaped her as he grabbed her and swung her over his back. He grunted when she collided, and she let his bow hit the side of his head. He hooked his hands under her knee-pits and started to walk. 

“Man, I could get used to this. You do this to Dory? All in the bedroom? Kinky shit, not like that.” 

Max’s laugh shook her and she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto both of their bows, which bounced lightly against his chest. Well, she didn't love him like a lover, cause the dangly bits. But maybe she could love him like a brother. Yeah. That could work. 

“Our sex is far more exciting than piggy back rides, Sera,” Dorian said haughtily as he walked with Bull. 

“ _ **EUGH!**_ ”


	3. Smoking

They were sitting in the Inquisitors room in a moderately close circle, less likely to be caught here and the balcony doors were flung wide open to let the smoke out. Max had been all for it the second Sera suggested it while they tromped across the Dirth.

“We all need to relax after this mess, Cleaning up wars, yeah? Expected that, _not_ stupid pits full of dead people coming back to kill us! We gotta get fuckin blazed at Skyhold.” 

Max lit up immediately. Solas seemed dubious at best, very much against it at worse. Varric laughed and proceeded to tell them about “This one time, Hawke and Merril-” and it seemed the plans were made no matter anyone's opinions on it. Sera had managed to get them all corralled in the lofty bedroom, sitting on the plush carpet. 

Solas frowned, brows knitting down at the small pipe Max offered. Varric and Sera had taken their hits, as did Max. “Oh come on, Solas. What'd you say to Blackwall? You were young once, gotta have tried, right? Live young again.” Max urged then flinched, “Unless you really don't want to...Your choice.” He promised. 

Solas looked like he was remembering a time long ago before he sighed, taking the pipe and a hit before passing it to Sera who seemed more than displeased that he simply blew the smoke out. She huffed and took her hit. 

About an hour or so passed. Max and Varric had fallen into giggles over blowing rings, and now all four of them were laying on their backs, staring up at the ceiling. “I should put a mural up there.” Max said softly as he took a hit then coughed, rolling to his side. “Fuck, ash.” 

“Oh balls.” Sera sighed dreamily. “Shite, balls, elf balls--” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Shush up, HayHen.” 

“it's...never mind. it doesn't matter-” Solas sighed, laying back. 

“We should've done this in the Approach.” Max sighed wistfully. A series of groans and one expensive pillow to the face from Sera had him laughing. 

“What is with your fascination with that wasteland, Inquisitor?” Solas asked calmly. Max settled, and let his hands fall to his sides before he gestured up wildly. 

“It's beauty...The hard lines of the steep cliffs, red with sand and sun, the never ending expanse of space, land and earth colliding in the most jarring way, mountains cutting out the blue sky and replacing it with dust and stone and sand,” he explained, moving his hands in the air as if he were painting it there above their heads. “When the clouds form, they're too large to see, cascading up into the sky, never ending. Everything there is eternal, living, existing on beyond all logic. We despise it for what? Enduring? We, who stand against the push and flow of fate, hate that which stands forever? I love it...the space, the silence, the quiet. It's my Golden City.” 

As he lowered his hands, there was a long silence before Sera whispered, “Shit.” Her hands ran through the air above, like smudging the invisible painting. “I love it, too.” 

“It is good.” Solas murmured. His hand joining Sera’s in the air, running along where Max “drew” in the sky. 

“Never thought it that way, Pony,” Varric said, though he kept his hands to the carpet, “It's fucking beautiful.” 

“There you are Inquisitor--what is going on!?” Josephine wailed as she ascended from the stairs. 

“Sh, Ruffles…” 

“Yeah! We're in the Approach cause it's shitty, but pretty in a shitty way.” 

“Quite…” 

“By the Maker, I'll reschedule your diplomatic meetings.” She sighed as she scurried down the stairs.


End file.
